Her Cowboy Reunion. Debbi Rawlins
him, she grabbed her purse and key fob and checked to make sure the car’s license plate number was included in case the desk clerk asked for it.
“Ah, I get it,” he said. “You wanted to get me alone.”
“Yeah, that’s right.” She swung her legs out of the car and stood. In her heeled boots, she had an inch on him...which she liked. “How did you end up here?” At the last minute he’d replaced Duncan, who Savannah had requested to be part of the team. She never would’ve asked for Ron. “I thought you were headed to New Orleans.”
“I pulled a few strings.”
Frowning, she popped the trunk and went around to get her bags. “That doesn’t make sense...”
Ron quickly lost the cocky grin and shrugged. “I wanted a shorter gig.”
He looked as though he was holding something back, which made Savannah nervous. Of all the assignments, she couldn’t have this one go sideways. He’d asked her out a couple times, and she’d politely declined. It had been a while, and everything had been fine between them, especially since she worked in the Denver office and he was usually on the road.
But God help him if he stuck one toe over the line. A nasty thought had her biting down on her lip. Wouldn’t Ron just die if he knew she’d started seeing Porter Burke two months ago? She wouldn’t say, of course, but just imagining the shock on his face brought her a moment’s satisfaction.
He beat her to the bags, grabbing both of them.
“Thank you, Ron,” she said, trying to keep her tone pleasant. “But I’ve got it. You really should go catch up with Nina.”
“Change of plans,” he said, heading toward the motel entrance.
“What do you mean?” she asked, hurrying to keep up with him.
“I’m staying here, too.”
“What? Wait. Duncan booked two rooms over at—”
“I changed the reservations.”
“What do you mean you changed them? Without consulting me?”
They reached the door and he stepped back, exchanging a smile with an older woman exiting the building. It gave Savannah a minute to settle down and get her temper under control. She wanted to kill him, but instead she’d just maim him for life.
A couple was sorting through brochures in the lobby, which was small enough that it would be difficult for Savannah not to be overheard. A woman standing behind the front desk greeted them. Ron gave her a big smile, stepped up and set down the bags.
This was starting out just great. Ten crummy seconds. That was all Savannah would’ve needed to drag Ron back out to the parking lot without causing a scene.
“We’re checking in,” Ron said. “I believe you have our reservation. Mr. and Mrs. Ron Carver.”
Savannah gaped at him, too stunned to say anything.
“Yes, we’ve been expecting you.” The woman—Patty, according to her name tag—transferred her attention to a monitor screen. “Oh, and congratulations. I see you called this morning and requested a honeymoon suite—”
“What? No. That’s a mistake.” Savannah quietly cleared her throat as she tried to regain her wits. The woman looked confused. “We aren’t really married. Not yet.” Forcing a smile, Savannah elbowed Ron. “Quit being so impatient.”
“Come on, honey. Don’t be—”
“We need two rooms.”
“Well, to be honest, we don’t have anything like a honeymoon suite. But let’s see what we do have...” Patty returned her gaze to the monitor. “How about a connecting—”
“No. Nothing connecting either.” Savannah didn’t trust herself to even look at Ron. “In fact, a different floor would be preferable.”
“Savannah, honey...”
She pushed his arm away from her shoulders. “Actually, I’m still pretty upset with you from that last little stunt you pulled.” The heel of her boot found his big toe. She didn’t step down too hard.
Ron whimpered.
Oh, well maybe it was a tiny bit harder than she’d intended.
“I’m sorry, Patty.” Savannah found it wasn’t as difficult to smile this time. “I didn’t mean to include you in our little tiff. Now, about my room?”
“No problem.” The woman hid her amusement as well as Savannah hid her satisfaction over inflicting pain on the stupid bastard.
And she was in no way finished with him. Maiming was now officially off the table. Another cute move and she was going for the jugular.
She had to be careful, though. In their line of work, attracting too much attention sometimes ended with them giving themselves away. The town was a legitimate client paying for Porter Burke’s services. The team had to give it their best effort.
Savannah hadn’t once forgotten how much she had at stake here.
Life had been good to her these last six years. She had just about everything she could want and certainly more than she’d ever dreamed possible, given her background. But some elusive piece seemed to be missing, and she couldn’t shake the feeling Blackfoot Falls might be the key.
The whole point of coming back to her childhood home was to get some closure. Being run out of town had been traumatic, and she’d had nightmares, plenty of them, for years. Now she’d see it all from an adult’s perspective instead of a hormonal teen’s.
This quest was one of completion, a symbolic way of locking the past behind her, so she could finally, unequivocally feel like the woman she appeared to be. Content, successful and capable of creating the life she wanted.
Now, if she could just figure out a way to get rid of Ron.
* * *
MIKE BURNETT SWUNG into the saddle and pulled up the collar of his jacket against the chilly October air. The sun had already dropped behind the snowcapped peaks to the west, so he didn’t need to check the time to know he was running late. He’d hoped to be home well before sundown.
Maybe he was wrong about the calf straying this far. He thought he’d caught a glimpse of the little hellion in the brush, but it must’ve been a coyote.
After taking a final look around, he started down the ridge, scouring the overgrown sage while keeping Dude at a slow walk. As they approached the clearing, the gelding sniffed the air. His nostrils flaring, he danced impatiently, waiting for a signal.
Mike knew what was coming. “It’s getting cold. Any chance I can talk you out of this?” he said, leaning forward and stroking the bay’s neck. “Huh, you big baby?”
Dude decided that was permission enough and galloped toward the trees. They skirted a trio of pines, leaped over a fallen branch, raced past a grove of cottonwoods and then splashed across the creek. Mike could’ve done without that part of the ritual, but he’d had the bay for five years now and he liked that Dude still had the playfulness of a colt.
Besides, even in the cold, Mike still got a rush riding like the wind. He wasn’t sure which one of them liked the exercise better.
After his own excitement leveled off, it was obvious Dude still needed to burn off some energy, and Mike didn’t have the heart to slow him down. Together, they raced across the field, through the tall grass, until the barn came into view.
Chip, the part-timer he’d hired last spring, apparently hadn’t left yet. His sorry old green pickup was still parked in the driveway. He was a good kid, still finding his way at the ripe old age of twenty-two, but he had a strong back and never complained about the work.
Right behind Chip’s truck was a newer black crew cab that Mike didn’t